


The Medicine of Life

by littlehollyleaf



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Lucifer/Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-26
Updated: 2012-03-26
Packaged: 2018-09-15 15:33:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9241844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlehollyleaf/pseuds/littlehollyleaf
Summary: Recently returned to the team, Cas struggles to redeem himself to his friends, while Sam continues to struggle with the devil on his shoulder and increasingly more vivid memories of Hell. Perhaps between them they can find a way to help each other.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A short birthday fic for [](http://cienna.livejournal.com/profile)[cienna](http://cienna.livejournal.com/) who wanted Sam and Cas, h/c and hugging. I think I got all of that okay? :) Title from Ecclesiasticus 6:16 - _A faithful friend is the medicine of life._ Written very much pre-7.17. I always knew it would be Jossed, but I couldn't have anticipated _how much_ :p

**The Medicine of Life**

 

Sometimes, Sam doesn't know what's worse.

The sharp, piercing, red-raw pain of it. Or the shame. Shame not of being fucked over by the Devil in every possible way—although that's bad enough—but of how he'd come to accept it. Even, almost, _hope_ for it. How after years of torment, of being ripped open over and over and over again, a new kind of touch, the kind that promised pleasure, however brutal, became nigh on impossible to resist. How half the time Sam was screaming in longing as much as agony. Fear and hate and need and desire bleeding together in one never-ending nightmare.

 _Hey inmate_. A hiss in his ear. A slick invasion. _Wanna go again? Tell you what, I'll only bite every other scream this time, whatd'ya say?_  
  
"No... please..."

Sam's so far gone he doesn't know anymore if his pleas are unified, or opposing each other.

"Sam."

"Please..."

 _More_.

"Sam."

"No..."

 _Stop_.

" _Sam_."

Sam jolts forward and everything changes, colours snapping from burning red to muted, mouldy grey, as instantaneous as the flick of a switch. The flames beneath him stutter and die, their ashes smoothing out into dry linen, scratchy but otherwise painless.

But most of all the body he clings to doesn't grip back. Clawed nails don't rake through his hair, peeling his scalp. Teeth don't worry his neck, biting down on the flesh of his jaw.

Instead, the torso he's wrapped around holds rigid, arms to the side.

"Sam," an altogether different voice mutters at his ear, tight but gentle. Gravelly and deep. Miles from the sing-song, almost juvenile, tone he's come to dread.

"Cas," Sam identifies.

He tries to relax with the knowledge, to extract his arms from the full body emersion they have his friend in. But his nerves are still locked in place, all of him screaming in panic _angelangelangel._ The fact this is a different angel entirely to the ones Sam remembers with horror doesn't seem to make a difference.

"Dean went to obtain provisions," Cas offers after a moment when Sam fails to bring anything else to the table. "You seemed distressed, so I thought... I thought it best to wake you."

Swallowing makes Sam aware of the sweat turning cold and clammy down his neck. His chest and arms must be swimming if this is anything like the times he's woken this way before and Cas' thin cotton vest—on loan from Dean—must be seeping the stuff up at an unpleasant rate.

And yet the thought of letting go, of losing this newfound assurance of reality, leaves Sam shaking. What if relinquishing Cas has him falling back into the fire?

"Yeah... yeah, thanks," he gasps.

Breathing hard against Castiel's immovable form Sam tries to focus. But the grimy walls and lice-ridden furniture of the abandoned home they've been squatting in these last few days keep flickering in and out of existence. Lucifer smirks at him from the shaft of moonlight in the far corner. The dark stench of blood rises from the shadows around them.

Then Cas shifts and lifts an arm, patting Sam awkwardly on the shoulder. Once. And again. And once more.

Lucifer shimmers and fades away.

"It's... it's alright Sam," Cas tells him. "You're safe."

The room turns back to normal, in all its decrepit glory, and Sam breathes out in relief.

"I... I know," he stutters.

Detangling takes a few seconds, Sam's limbs long and gangly in comparison to Castiel's small and stoic frame. His arms are also embarrassingly stiff, he's been holding on so tight.

The angel's eyes are calm when Sam meets them though. A bright blue that burns through you and has Sam ducking his head almost at once. It's the kind of penetrating look that says Cas can see exactly what Sam's been dreaming about, all of his darkness, his wicked desires, and Sam doesn't know how Dean can stand that he really doesn't.

Not that he's harbouring any guilt, exactly, over his time in the Cage and his memories of it. That was punishment and penance, a great deal of it deserved, and the lingering effects are just something he has to deal with and that's that. So no, it's not that he minds Cas seeing into his broken soul.

He just values his privacy is all.

Swinging his legs round Sam shuffles a little way along the mattress, putting some distance between him and the angel. Good thing he crashed fully clothed, or this could have been _really_ embarrassing.

"I'm sorry, man," Sam mutters, rubbing his neck. "I didn't mean to, you know, go all octopus on you."

"It's fine," Cas answers. Then, "You are the last person who owes me an apology."

There's a weight to the words that has Sam glancing back. This time Cas' eyes are cloudy and turn downcast as Sam looks.

"I..." Cas continues and his rigid stance breaks, shoulders hunching as he leans forward and looks away, hands clasping across his knees. Sam can't get over how _fallible_ he lookswithout the suit and coat. "I never meant this for you, Sam. I truly thought to fix you once I had absorbed the souls. Had I known just how you would suffer I never would have touched your wall."

"Yeah, you would," Sam counters before he can think about it and the words come out hard and fast, the start of something long overdue between them.

Because it's been weeks since he and Dean found Cas alive and, relatively, well. Lack of angel mojo aside. Weeks. And they haven't broached the obvious subject once.

Though, to be fair, that's not without trying.

Cas and Sam have both made tentative efforts to bring up the topic and get the tension bubbling under all their skins out in the open. But Dean, master of repression and denial that he is, has vetoed them each and every time. It's stupid and Sam knows he can't let his brother keep up the charade much longer, but Dean's been so freaking _happy_ since they got Cas back, more than Sam's seen him in what feels like forever. He can't bring himself to burst Dean's bubble just yet.

With just him and Cas though? Well, something had to give eventually and now seems as good a time as any.

"Don't pretend, Cas," he presses, determined to see this though while they have the chance. "You were dead set on your plan. You'd have done it no matter what."

Cas is still for a moment. Then, instead of contradicting, he presses his eyes shut and drops his head. A perfectly human gesture of remorse.

It both pains and warms Sam's heart to see it.

"But, ah... you know. It's done now. So..."

He shrugs, pushing to his feet and moving to the limescale infested bathroom where he fills a chipped tumbler with water, downing half of it before heading back. The water's tepid and kind of disgusting, but better than the lingering taste of sulphur in his mouth. When he steps through the doorway he sees Cas hasn't moved and leans against the doorway with a sigh.

"Cas, forget about it," he says. "It's okay."

"No." Cas' voice is as sharp as a dry twig snapping, eyes dark in the faded light of the room when he looks up. "Sam, not a day goes by when I don't wish I could go back and change what I've done. It is not _okay_."

Sam takes another sip of water and mulls over Cas' words as he swallows. He nods.

"No, I guess not," he concurs, pushing on before the remorse lining Cas' face can turn the angel away from him again. "But, I get it, okay? I... I've got some experience, you know? Trying to do the right thing, and having it turn out... not so right." He can still taste the bile in his throat when Ruby explained exactly what killing Lilith meant and, even after Hell, the memory remains one of the worst moments of his life, twisting him up inside whenever he thinks about it. "So I know how easy it is to follow through on a bad plan." Sam's expression hardens again. "And opening Purgatory was a _bad plan,_ Cas."

Castiel takes a breath, shoulders tensing. But he doesn't look away and he doesn't argue. If anything he seems relieved that Sam's calling him on this finally.

"But you know that," Sam goes on. "Just like you know what you did to me was a really _dick_ move."

It's cathartic, getting this out.

Sam's not been holding a grudge. What with the amount of people they've lost over the years and everything, he'd long since decided that kind of thing was pointless. But that's not to say he hasn't felt some resentment towards this angel he'd called friend, welcomed into his family, for bringing this daily torment down on him. For leaving him walking around incomplete for almost a year. Hell, if he's honest with himself there's even a part of him that's _jealous_ of the way Dean got a perfect resurrection, while he was sloppy seconds. The lesser Winchester, who Cas didn't see the need to devote his full attention to.

But Sam can feel all those thoughts, those last few dregs of resentment, leaving him with every harsh word. A purge of bad feelings as effective as the blows he and Dean trade from time to time when they argue. And with a not dissimilar reaction, considering the way Cas flinches at his tone.

"I know—" Cas starts.

"I'm not done," Sam interrupts. "You screwed up. Big time. But..." He shrugs. "Join the club, right? And hey, I wouldn't be topside at all if it wasn't for you. I owe you for that. Yeah, it still freaks me out how... how _wrong_ I was that first year. But... but I know you didn't mean for that, and..."

Sam wants to say maybe they should have done more for Cas. Been there to help him with his war. But while he hates how he was without his soul and hates using that as an excuse for his crimes that year, the truth is that without his soul there was no reason why he _should_ have thought to help Cas. Especially when Cas outright refused to tell them how bad things were until it was too late. So if Sam wasn't there for Cas the way Cas needed someone to be, well that's just not on him.

That's a conversation Cas needs to have with Dean, maybe.

"And I forgive you, man," he says instead, because that's something he can be a hundred percent sure of. It's what he's been working up to since they started this. Cas blinks a few times at the words, eyes suddenly pale and shining. "Plus, you know, he hasn't said it but... but Dean does too. He's just..." _A moron_ , Sam thinks, equal parts fond and frustrated with his emotionally stunted brother. "He'll talk. He just needs time."

"I don't," Cas croaks, forced to cough in order to continue with his voice uninhibited. "I don't expect your forgiveness. Or Dean's... Nor do I deserve it."

Sam lets the smile tugging his lips claim him, warming his cheeks. He feels better for it, for this whole exchange. The one thing he's wanted, _needed_ , to say to Cas ever since, hell, ever since the guy stumbled back into Bobby's, bleeding and begging for help, finally out there and acknowledged. It's like a weight has been lifted. Damn it, he's going to have to push Cas and his brother into their own one-on-one ASAP, Dean _needs_ this. They both do.

"Well, you got it anyway," he tells the angel through his grin.

Maybe Cas believes him, maybe not. But the way Cas' lips flicker makes Sam thinks he's starting to at least. About _his_ forgiveness anyway, if not Dean's.

_Awww, look at him. Ain't he a cutie?_

There's never a fanfare when Lucifer shows up. That's the worst thing about it. He's insidious. When he's there it's like he's always been there. Like he never left.

Or like Sam never did.

Sam sniffs and finishes his water, trying to ignore the way Lucifer perches on the edge of the bed, wrapping an arm around Castiel's hunched over form in a mockery of brotherly affection.

 _Don't worry kid,_ Lucifer says, reaching down with his other hand to squeeze Cas' knee. _Big brother'll take care of you._

Something protective rises up in Sam at that—the contrast Lucifer makes to the countless times Dean's been there for him, perhaps—and he sucks in a breath. It's on the tip of his tongue to tell Lucifer to _get away!_ when he remembers there's nothing there to shout at. He presses his lips together and swallows the words but it's too late, Lucifer's already quirking an eyebrow in his direction and Sam's looking back, making eye contact. Eye contact with something that's not real. Only the contact _makes_ him real and Lucifer knows it, eyes gleaming, grin smug. _Gotcha._

Sam jerks his gaze away, gripping his glass so tight it feels like his knuckles are going to pop right out of his skin.

"Sam?"

Cas must have heard him gasp.

"Sorry, I, um..." Sam answers to the doorframe. _I can't look at you right now because I might see the devil._ "Gimme a minute."

The scar on his hand isn't working anymore, so Sam's been forced to resort to will power alone. Which works maybe one time in a hundred.

With no other option, though, Sam screws his eyes up and gives it a shot.

_Sam. Don't be mean. All I want is some quality time with my brother._

Nope. Not today.

"You're seeing him? Now?" Cas asks.

Sighing, Sam resigns himself to a night of crazy and opens his eyes. Cas is gazing up at him, eyes wide, oblivious to the way the devil's long, slender fingers are twisting through his hair.

 _I don't know_ , Lucifer muses, pressing a finger to his cheek in a theatrical gesture for deep thought. _Could use some gel. What do you think?_

"He's sitting next to you," Sam answers.

They've explained to Cas the effects of his broken wall, of course. Dean had gone into a lot of detail, all of it spat out in loud, accusatory tones. But this is the first time Cas has ever witnessed it first-hand and he actually jumps and turns his head, looking both sides of him since Sam didn't specify which one Lucifer was occupying. Lucifer folds his arms and chuckles. The sound isn't fond.

After a few seconds of looking Cas' body relaxes and he shakes his head.

"No. No he isn't here," he says, matter-of-fact.

"Yeah, I know Cas," Sam sighs back as Lucifer holds a hand behind Cas' head and curls two fingers into bunny ears, grinning like a schoolboy. "But knowing doesn't help..."

His feet feel leaden as he moves to place his empty glass on top of a rotting chest of drawers a way along the wall. God, he's so _tired_.

"I see..." Cas mutters, growing thoughtful. "He's real to you."

 _He's such a nerd, right? And you know what else?_ Lucifer cups a hand round one side of his mouth and continues in a fake whisper. _Virgin._

"Too real," Sam mutters.

"Does he... respond to outside influence, or only to you?" Cas continues, still clinical, like he's trying to diagnose Sam's condition to the final detail. "For instance, if I asked a question would he answer?"

Oddly, this is somehow more comforting than Dean's awkward, embarrassed inquiries after his wellbeing. Dean tries so hard to be offhand it just makes his concern _more_ overbearing. What Cas is doing makes Lucifer seem more like a symptom than an affliction. Like he's no more than an embarrassingly placed rash. Awkward, but treatable.

It's not much, but it promises a small layer of distance from the phantom at least.

"Um..." Sam starts, trying to mimic Cas' detachment.

 _Want my help, Cassie?_ Lucifer jumps off the bed and squats down in front of Cas, elbows on his knees, hands clasping together. He rests his chin on his knuckles and stares up at Castiel expectantly. _Go ahead, lay it on me little brother. I'm all yours._

Sam doesn't like it when Lucifer focuses on others. It makes the risk of the hallucination bleeding out that much higher. Like when the devil had stabbed that poker through a still talking Bobby, or made those kids at the library bash their brains out. When that starts happening Sam can almost feel his mind seizing up, reality crumbling until he figures he must be seconds from catatonic.

But Cas helped him earlier, after his dream. And now his scar's out as a coping mechanism, Sam has to find another way of dealing some time.

"He's listening," he nods at Cas.

Cas narrows his eyes in thought, then nods back.

When he speaks it's a series of hard vowel sounds interspersed with Sam's name.

Lucifer twists round and rolls his eyes. _Show off. You'd never believe he was the quiet one growing up._

"Err..." Sam frowns. "That's... Enochian, right? I don't... I mean, I've been doing some research here and there. I know some. Mostly written though, I'm not good with the pronunciation..."

"Enochian is an angel's native tongue," Cas cuts in. "You don't need to know it. Lucifer will."

Lucifer laughs. _Oh, isn't he the cutest thing?_ He pushes to his feet and saunters over to Sam, whispering in his ear. Sam flinches on impulse. _He thinks he can trick me into proving I'm not real._

Cas glances in the direction Sam's leaning from in interest.

"Nice idea, Cas," Sam tells him, voice tight as he struggles to ignore the scent of burning growing thick in the air around him. "But I don't think that's gonna work."

"What does he say?" Cas persists, looking pretty much directly at Lucifer now. Sam wishes he wouldn't. Logically he knows it's coincidence, that Cas can tell where the archangel's supposed to be from the way Sam's angled. But Lucifer, of course, is looking _straight_ at Cas and it looks so much like they can see each other Sam's head starts to throb at the temples.

_He says, stop asking stupid questions, baby brother. If you know what's good for you._

The menace in the tone makes Sam shudder. A movement that draws Cas' gaze back to him.

"He says don't ask stupid questions," Sam answers when Cas lifts an enquiring eyebrow. It's some comfort, at least, that Cas clearly didn't hear the answer himself.

Lifting his head, Cas curves his lips in a thin, surprisingly triumphant smile.

"He said that? Precisely that?"

"Yeah. Why?"

Lucifer makes a derogatory noise. _Thinks he's so smart. Well he's not too old to feel the back of my hand, you know._

"Do you have paper, and a pen?"

"Sure."

Curiosity piqued, Sam grabs a ballpoint and a couple of library printouts from his rucksack, flicking the light switch by the main door on the way. If nothing else, whatever Cas has in mind will be a useful distraction.

He turns the pages over and folds them before holding them out to Cas. They _were_ a list of missing persons in town, but with the vengeful spirit taken care of they don't need them anymore.

"The Enochian you know," Cas says without taking the offered pages. "Do you recognise this?" He makes more guttural sounds, tongue clicking in the back of his throat. This time the foreign speech is familiar. It was part of his question, Sam remembers. But hearing the words slower and out of context he realises that yes, he does half recognise them.

"Wait. Um. Maybe," he nods, sitting back next to Cas and scribbling over the paper himself. "Is it this?"

Cas nods as he glances at the symbol Sam's attempted, while Lucifer moves round to peek over Cas' shoulder. He nods too.

 _Hmmm, yes. Very good, Sam_ , he mocks.

"Do you know what it means?" Cas asks.

"Uh... something like, loyalty. Or together?" Sam hazards, trying to picture the symbol as it appeared in the dusty tome he'd found it in.

A tiny curve appears at the corner of Cas' lips.

"Yes. In a sense in means both of those," he answers. "Enochian is... difficult to translate in a way you'd understand. But the simplest meaning would be 'friendship.'"

"Friendship," Sam repeats, focusing on the symbol and trying to commit it to memory. No matter where Cas is going with this, expanding his Enochian vocabulary can only be a good thing. You never know when something like that might come in handy. "Got it. What was the other part? Um—"

He attempts to replicate the sounds Cas made earlier and Cas actually chuckles. When he repeats them correctly Sam hears how off-pitch he was and smiles in return, despite Lucifer's eyeroll behind Cas' back. He wonders if his mispronunciation inadvertently made one of those only-funny-in-Enochian jokes Cas mentioned during the apocalypse, like that thing about the mouth of a goat.

After a couple more attempts Sam finally gets it right and Cas takes the pen and paper from him to write out the symbol for the word. His handwriting looks insanely neat and precise next to Sam's scrawl.

"Hey, wait, I know part of that," Sam starts, pointing eagerly at one of the curves in Cas' symbol. "It was in a spell I found. It meant, um, admire? The spell was some kind of summoning. I think that part was mostly ego stroking."

The flash of pride in Cas' eyes when they meet Sam's over the page sparks a warmth in Sam's chest of the kind he hasn't felt since Stanford.

"Admiration, yes, it can mean that," Cas nods and there's _praise_ in his tone. It's not patronising, it's not the dry acknowledgement of a fact learnt for a hunt. This isn't practical teaching. It's sharing knowledge for its own sake. Sam hadn't realised how much he'd missed that, missed being a scholar. "In this context, however," Castiel continues, indicating the rest of the symbol with the tip of the pen. "Its meaning is more akin to gratitude."

"Gratitude," Sam nods. "Friendship and gratitude..." His eyebrows knit together as he tries to put the two together. "Wait—"

Cas faces him directly as he repeats the phrase in Enochian. Then again in English.

"Thank you, Sam. For being my friend."

Cas holds Sam's gaze as he finishes, but purses his lips together in the silence that follows, suddenly self-conscious.

Sam just smiles at first, touched by the sentiment. Then the truth of it sinks in.

"That's... it wasn't a question."

"It wasn't a question."

Cas speaks the last part in unison with him, as though to reinforce it, while behind him Lucifer's mouth opens and closes in comical silence.

 _I knew that. I did,_ the devil tries. But it's too late, he's already starting to flicker and as Sam watches he vanishes completely, leaving not a trace. No afterimage burned into the shadows. Not even a hint of brimstone.

It's not until his tension bleeds out of him in a rush, breath escaping in a long sigh, that Sam realises how on edge he's been.

"He's nothing but a phantom of your making, Sam," Cas says gently. "The only power he has over you is the power you give him."

Relief at this unexpected moment of freedom makes Sam almost giddy, enough to reach out and squeeze Cas' shoulder in thanks.

"I know," he breathes. "I know. I just... it's hard." He drops his head. Drops everything—his attempt to be strong, to look like he's got it together, like he can handle it. Because Cas is _here_ for him. He _cares._ He just scared off the fucking devil for him. And because Cas is more than a friend, he's _family,_ and Sam knows, here and now without a doubt, that it's _safe_ to be open about this with Cas. "It's so fucking hard, Cas. I don't know... I don't know how much longer I can keep this up."

A light touch to his own shoulder makes Sam look up and this time it's kind of nice being caught in that bluer than blue stare. It's nice to have a steadying presence in the midst of the chaos that is the rest of his life. Even if Cas' eyes are burdened with sorrow.

"I can't... fix you, Sam," Cas says and the regret in his voice hangs heavy in the air between them. "But I will not leave you to face your troubles alone. I will help you with this for as long as I can. As long you want me to. I promise you that."

Sam flashes back to when he and Cas first met. Back when he was nothing but 'the boy with the demon blood.' To think they've come from that to this. To Cas caring enough about Sam that not being able to cure him should put such a look of pain on the angel's once expressionless face. It makes Sam's chest ache. Makes his throat seize up so he can only whisper.

"Thanks, Cas."

A key turns in the door and the moment's broken, the two of them breaking apart as Dean comes stomping inside.

"Okay, dinner is served!" he announces, throwing an assortment of fast food bags onto the spot of the bed Sam and Cas have just separated from. "Grab it quick because I am _starving_."

Dean pulls a burger out for himself and has barely drawn back the wrapper before he's sinking his teeth into the flesh of it.

"Perfection," he murmurs round his mouthful, leaning against the chest of drawers still holding Sam's empty tumbler as he proceeds to attack his food with all the etiquette of a grizzly. "So what'd you guys get up to while I was gone?"

He waves his half-eaten burger between them, spitting flecks of bread and lettuce over the carpet.

Sam looks over to smile at Cas, but Dean's presence has made a marked difference in the angel. Cas' shoulders are hunched with tension again and he's avoiding eye contact, busying himself with searching through the bags on the mattress for something to eat.

For his part, Dean's gaze moves from Sam to follow Cas' movements intently.

Sam's wondered for a long time if there might be something... _more_ between Cas and his brother. Before Purgatory the atmosphere between them had been almost palpable sometimes, their conversations so intense walking in on them had been like wading through a static charge. And then after Cas disappeared in that lake... Dean's downward spiral had been such a painful reminder of those first few months after Jess the possibility of his brother's feelings for the angel running deeper than Dean was letting on had been impossible to ignore. Then now they have this—the lingering looks when the two of them think no one can see, the undercurrent of frustration through the small talk, like they both _want_ to be talking about something else but can't figure out how.

Yup. Something's _going to happen_ there. No question.

Sam just hopes it happens sooner rather than later, because the uneasy limbo the two of them are living in at the moment, always treading on eggshells around each other, is not good for anyone.

In fact. Perhaps he can help move things along.

Cas has helped him a lot tonight. It's only fair he returns the favour.

"Nothing," he says in response to Dean's query, making a show of looking through the bags along with Cas. "Dude... you couldn't find anything a _little_ bit healthier?"

Dean snorts in disgust round his latest mouthful.

"Hey, there's one of those crappy salad things you like in there," he protests. "What more do you want from me?"

Actually, the salad shake in one of the bags doesn't look half bad and ordering it must have been a massive embarrassment for his brother. Any other time Sam would be grateful, but tonight he just rolls his eyes.

"Something that's _not_ drowning in mayo would be good," he counters, sweetening his tone with a generous amount of bitchiness. Can't hurt Cas to have Dean's frustration focused away from him, at least to start with. "I can't eat any of this..." Sam stands up in a huff, waving a hand for good measure, while Dean looks on incredulous. Cas on the other hand is watching Sam with his head slightly tilted to the side, gaze calm and calculating. "I'm gonna go to that store round the corner, see if I can find something else," Sam continues, heading for the door. "I'll be, I don't know, half an hour or something."

" _Half an hour?_ " Dean repeats. "To go to a store less than two blocks away?"

Sam shrugs, eyes catching Castiel's for a moment. There's a brief softening at the corner of the angel's lips as Cas acknowledges what Sam's doing, then his mouth flattens into a hard and nervous line.

"I'm sure you guys will have plenty to talk about while I'm gone," Sam answers, which makes Dean's eyes narrow.

Okay, that was a bit unsubtle. But knowing Dean that's probably for the best.

The scowl darkening Dean's face tells Sam his brother is starting to figure out what he's up to now as well, so he doesn't wait around.

"Anyway, see you guys when I get back."

"Sam, wait—"

The click of the door behind him cuts Dean off mid-sentence and Sam half expects his brother to yank the thing back open and demand his return. He even hears the sound of Dean's boots stamping across the room like Dean is about to do just that.

But after a few paces the sound stops and there's silence.

Then Sam hears the faint rumble of Cas' voice.

"Dean..."

" _Damnit,_ Sam," Dean mutters, thumping the door once, then raising his voice as he continues. "Okay! You wanna do this? Let's do this, Cas. Let's talk. Let's talk about Purgatory. And _Crowley_. And..."

Dean's starts stomping again, this time away from the door, words fading to an angry murmur, and Sam smiles.

 

_Fin._


End file.
